


"On My List"

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Boys Kissing, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Humor, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sexual Humor, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't mix too many Sierra Nevadas and Rob Benedict ... things might end up being said that shouldn't be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"On My List"

“Lindsey Lohan.”

“ _Ew_ , really? Oh my god. I’ve lost all respect for you, man.”

Misha chuckles and shakes his head “I don’t think she’s _that_ bad.”

Jensen scoffs so hard, he probably dislodged a tonsil. “Bad or not, she’s _really_ your first choice? The one freebee, no questions asked— _good to go_ lay _? Her?”_

Rob watches his two friends, _amused_ —comfortable and warmly nestled between a throw pillow and his generous stack of empty beer bottles.

“Well, now that you mention it, I’m thinking Audrey Hepburn might be a better choice.”

“Isn’ she dead?” Rob slurs, which pulls a pleasant little laugh past Jensen’s just-licked lips.

“Yeah she is … and even if she wasn’t, she’d be like a hundred and two by now. Can you think of anyone age appropriate who currently has a pulse?”

Misha ponders this for a moment, seeming to think long and hard, like it’s a question for the ages. “Justin Beiber” he finally says with fervor.

“Okay, if you’re just going to fuck around, I’ll stop asking” Jensen snips back. He’s soon leaning forward in his chair to snatch up his own beer, taking a swig before plopping it down again—all with a disappointed shake of his head.

“ _Sor-ry_ ” Misha sighs, throwing up his hands. “I didn’t realize this game was so serious to you.”

Green eyes shoot to the far side of the room, shoulders shrugging with an air of forced-nonchalance. “It’s _not_ , but I was curious and you’re just dickin’ around.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever actually thought about it that much.” He seems more sincere now and Rob thinks that he’s probably telling the truth; Misha Collins _doesn’t_ live through scenarios after all.

“Oh c’mon! Now I _know_ you’re lying!”

 _Jensen_ apparently _,_ does not agree _._

The two men are soon tilted towards one another, gesturing harshly over the coffee table between them—casting angry shadows on the convention schedules spread out across the glass. Rob smiles to himself, feeling the _drunk_ slosh about his brain, fizzing like warm waters of a jacuzzi. He loves watching Jensen and Misha bicker like this— _drunk or not_. The two act like an old married couple half the time he’s around—and like flirting teens the other half. All in all, they’re just _really_ cute—no better way to describe them than that, and Rob can’t stop the grin that grows with his friends’ rising volume.

“Well, _fine_ —since you’ve given it a lot of thought! Who would _you_ do then … if Danneel and _I—uh i_ f _she_ gave you a free pass?” Misha peeks over at Rob a moment, as if to see if he’s still listening.

He is—but he’s fading in and out, falling helplessly into the soft give of the armchair beneath him.

“Sofia Vergara” Jensen answers quickly.

“Typical” Misha spits back steamed and tender, with an eye roll on the side.

Jensen hunches forward some more, propping a defensive elbow atop his knee and puffing out his chest. “ _What_?”

“Oh nothing—just, _Macho Jensen_ going for the biggest boobs he can find. It’s just … _typical_.”

“Dude … _she’s hot._ ”

“I realize she’s hot, but I mean, is that all you’re thinking about? Not personality, just _looks_? Don’t get me wrong … if she presented me with the opportunity, I’d be a fool to pass on it, but—”

“But _nothing_! See, you’re exactly as perverted as I am so don’t try to pull some high and mighty bullshit!” Jensen hisses, leering heavily at blue eyes that now avoid his gaze.

Rob let’s out a bubbly laugh with that one— _how could he not?_ His friends get so silly and stupid over one another—over silly, stupid things; so much so that they’re just some brightly colored fur away from being Muppets.

“What?” Misha asks him suddenly, a smile pulling at his cheek once he finally faces the very drunk third wheel keeping them company in the green room.

“You two’re funny” Rob garbles, and watches warmly as Jensen and Misha deflate, smiling back and forth to one another, laying out a new common ground with the sight of the man melting into his own beard.

“And _you’re_ wasted” Jensen counters, standing up from his chair. “We should get you back to your room … it’s already—” he glances down at the watch on his wrist. “ _Shit_ , it’s already two in the morning. _Fuck_ , flying tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

“Always does, _sleep or no_ t” Misha agrees, pulling himself up as well.

“You didn’t ask me.” Rob’s beer slicked voice pulls both the men’s ears back down, curving their attention to him.

“ _Wha_?” Jensen laughs, taking a step closer just as Rob’s eyes begin to flutter.

“You din’ ask me” he chirps again and Jensen turns to Misha, confused, shoulders gathered in a shrug.

“I think he wants you to ask him who _his_ freebee-fuck would be” Misha clarifies, in a tone that makes it seem likes this is a totally normal conversation. Then again, for _their_ _group_ —it kind of is.

Jensen’s eyebrows smash together as another laugh clamors from his throat. “ _Jesus_ … give the guy a few Sierra Nevadas and he’s fucking _toasted_.”

If Rob had the energy, he’d correct Jensen. It was _six_ Sierra Nevadas— _thank you very much_.

Soon, Jensen is bending down, laying a heavy hand on Rob’s shoulder, shaking him a little to make sure he’s even still awake. “Okay, bud. Who would _you_ do, then? Ya know, if Mollie would let ya.”

Rob peeks back into the questioning face in front of him, and then slumps his eyes to the right to see Misha standing at Jensen’s side. “She’d let’me” the man giggles, finally dropping his head and nestling his cheek against Jensen’s hand.

The action doesn’t seem to faze the guy though, because all Jensen does is lift his other palm and pat Rob’s cheek. “Oh yeah? You two already talk about this or somthin’?” Jensen asks, and Rob blinks slowly as he nods.

“Was this one of those ‘you each make a list’ things?” Misha chimes in, sounding genuinely curious.

Rob nods again.

“Okay, well don’t leave us hangin’ here, man. Who’s on your list?” Jensen asks, giving Rob’s beard a little rub with his thumb.

“You two” Rob yawns, slipping easily into the press of Jensen’s fingers and smiling as the world goes dark.

***

A stray ray of sun slices through his lids, jolting Rob awake—making him instantly aware of the major crick in his neck.

“Oh my _god_ ” he whines, rubbing at the incessant pinch and groaning as it does nothing to ease it.

“Morning, sunshine. Not doin’ so hot?”

Jensen’s voice unleashes another attack on his senses, making him whip around—quickly crumpling with the flash of pain that shoots through his spine. “ _Ah!_ Damn it!”

“What’s wrong?” Misha voice now rolls across the room, a thunder cloud amongst the lightning. The man somehow appears at his side, rubbing a soft hand over Rob’s back.

“My neck” Rob hisses, squinting as he presses his fingers harder at the base of his skull. “I slept on it wrong.”

He hears Jensen laugh making him finally peek up—breath catching when he realizes, the guy is _shirtless_. “Well, you insisted on sleeping on the floor. Don’t know why, but I know better than to argue with a drunk man.”

“Wh-what?” Rob mumbles, still trying to wrap his head around the broad chest, smattered with freckles, standing only a few feet away from him.

“You got pretty smashed last night. You passed out in the green room and we couldn’t find _your_ room key, so Jensen carried you up to ours.”

There’s a lot of what Misha just said that doesn’t make any sense at all to Rob, and he’s starting to wonder if all that Sierra Nevada made him suddenly lose his ability to understand English. Although, the pounding in his head and those damn flickering freckles could be to blame too. “What?” he says again, now turning with a wince over to Misha, who’s taken up the spot next to him and—who is, _fuck …_ he’s shirtless too! “Why … w-where are your …? _Wait_ …” Rob groans and rubs his eyes with his other hand. He’s probably hallucinating all this … or dreaming. He has _very_ vivid dreams sometimes. He shakes his head a little to try and jostle some sense loose, hunching over himself a moment later as a sudden waive of nausea hits him. “Wait …” he repeats. _No,_ he’s definitely awake. “I think … I think I’m still drunk.”

“You’re such a light weight” Jensen teases, turning around on his heels and heading to the coffee pot that’s currently popping and hissing on the large desk at the end of the room. “I think you just need coffee.”

“Maybe start with some aspirin, Jen” Misha calls after him, and Rob watches Jensen nod and make his way to towards the front door of the hotel room to a set of bags laying on the floor. One is Jensen’s, and the other is unmistakably Misha’s. Traveling together as much as they all do—Rob would know their bags anywhere.

“Is the Aspirin in yours?” Jensen calls out, still digging through his own duffle.

“I think so. You put it in there when we were in DC.”

“Oh yeah. After that one fan screeched in my ear—had a migraine the rest of the weekend.”

“Yep, that was not a fun weekend for me.”

“Why? You weren’t the one with the migraine.” Jensen straightens out and turns back to look at Misha, who’s still sitting next to Rob on the floor.

“Yeah, but you’re insufferable when _you_ do.”

“Thanks. That’s sweet.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two quiet again as Jensen turns back to start rummaging through Misha’s bag, pulling out different items to try and find the elusive pill bottle; and it’s only then that it all dawns on Rob. He’s not sure why it was the sight of Jensen—carelessly handling Misha’s boxers that did it. After all, Misha did say “ _our_ room” just a second ago; and they _are_ both currently shirtless … early in the morning … _together_. They _do_ always seem to be flirting with each other or touching each other—or disappearing at random times just when they’re needed … always coming back looking slightly ruffled but content. Everyone always jokes about it, but that’s all Rob ever thought it was— _a joke._ Honestly, who doesn’t have a man crush these days? He knows he has about ten of them, _Jensen and Misha included._ He thought that was all their flirting was, nothing more. But now, the joke is confirmed—confirmed by the sight of Jensen placing Misha’s belongings right next to his own, like they’re shared to begin with … like they, _well_... _belong_ there. That’s exactly when Rob realized, Jensen and Misha are _together_.

“This … this is _your room_ ” Rob whispers once he finally finds his breath again … sounding almost horrified and Misha turns back to him, a puzzled smile playing on his face.

“ _Yeah_ ” he offers, making the word sound more like a question than anything.

“B—both of you? Like … y-you _and_ Jensen?” Rob stutters, shooting his gaze down to his own crossed legs, suddenly not able to meet anyone’s eyes.

“ _Oh_ … well …”

Rob looks up again after feeling the silence begin to pool around his feet, just in time to see Misha trade a lengthy noiseless conversation with Jensen—one filled with shrugs and pinched brows, and small waves of their hands. It’s something he does with Mollie all the time; they can ground their kids, discuss dinner plans and say _I love you_ without ever opening their mouths, and he’d be damned if Jensen and Misha weren’t doing the exact same thing in front of him now.

Misha sighs once their quiet debate is finally over, maneuvering back to Rob’s eyes with trepidation and worry. “Yeah … yeah, Rob. _Our_ room.”

“So … you two … you two are …” Rob leads, now unable to look anywhere _but_ the blue rings wrapping him up.

“We are …” Misha begins, fidgeting and fumbling on the last word that they all know is there.

“ _You’re_ …”

“ _Uh_ …”

“Jesus Christ—we’re fucking, okay?” Jensen bursts in after another round of stunted, throaty noises.

“Wow. Glad you think so highly of us” Misha fires back instantly, and then the two are off in another, _much more heated_ , silent argument.

“Fine! We’re _romantically involved_. Better?” Jensen grumbles, disappearing into the bathroom and Rob hears the water of the sink turn on once the man is out of sight. After another second, it shuts off again and Jensen reappears with a glass in hand—walking towards them both, handing it and two white pills to Rob.

“We’re in a polyamorous relationship—if we’re being _technical_ ” Misha corrects, shooting another frigid glance back to Jensen just as Rob takes the water and Asprin from his hands.

“ _Whatever_ ” Jensen groans, rolling his eyes and bolting once more towards the coffee pot.

“Not _whatever_.”

“Whatever” Jensen yells again and Rob doesn’t think he’s ever been more uncomfortable in his life than he is in this moment—and he practically created the word _._

Misha growls, low and deep, finally turning back to Rob with apologetic eyes. “He’s a fucking cave man, I swear.”

Rob nods softly, unsure of what else to do—wincing again as his neck calls out for his attention once more.

“Oh …” Misha hums, obviously noticing Rob’s discomfort. “You said your neck hurt, right? Want me to rub it?”

It’s not like it’s something new. Misha is sort of their in-house masseuse. Whenever someone is ailing from the woes of cramped airline seats, or grumbling about their uncomfortable hotel beds—Misha is the one to make it all better. He’s helped Rob out numerous times … _shit_ , the man might really be part angel if his healing touch is anything to go by. In any case, this isn’t new, Rob shouldn’t be feeling awkward about the offer, but Misha is _shirtless_. He’s shirtless and he’s probably the one responsible for stripping off _Jensen’s_ shirt—which gives Rob a whole onslaught of mental images he really doesn’t need to be thinking about right now. This isn’t like any of the other times Misha has offered a friendly massage— _not even close._

“No, it’s fine … I—I’m good” he forces a smile and attempts to stretch out his spine, but everything seizes at once and he snaps into himself like a snipped rubber band.

“No, you’re not … _here_ …” In an instant, Misha is sitting himself up on the couch that Rob has been leaning against, positioning his body behind him and circling warm fingers into his shoulders.

The moan that escapes Rob’s lips is almost filthy.

“ _Good_ , right?” Jensen’s voice hums through the air and Rob didn’t even realize he had closed his eyes until he notices that he’s no longer staring at Jensen’s bare back, and the man sounds much closer than he did a second ago. He opens up again and sees his friend holding out a cup of coffee and grinning wide—proud, gaze flicking just over Rob’s shoulder, glowing as he focuses on who is sitting just behind him. “He’s fucking amazing with his hands.” The blush that follows makes every one of Jensen’s freckles stand out against the red of his skin.

Rob feels his face heat up too as he sets aside his water glass to replace it with the mug of coffee. He takes a sip, desperate to keep his mouth busy so it won’t say something stupid right now. The bitter liquid burns his tongue, and he sputters a bit as he yanks the mug away.

“Woah, slow down, man” Jensen laughs.

Misha chuckles too and Rob can feel the vibration run through his fingers and slip all the way down his own spine. It seems to bounce around his insides, finally making an inappropriate landing right on his groin. He shifts onto his haunches to try and shake it loose.

“Hold still” Misha scolds, steadying him with his palms.

“Yeah … yeah, sorry” Rob whispers, deciding to give his coffee another attempt.

Misha continues to rub and Jensen goes back to the desk, brewing up another pot—seemingly for himself and Misha. A few minutes pass with nothing being said and just the sound of Misha’s knuckles occasionally cracking to ease away the tension. The other two men seem perfectly content with the silence, but Rob feels like he’s drowning in it now. It’s risen past his ankles, his knees—circling up to his neck and leaves him wading, waiting for it to pull him down. Soon, he’s so desperate for words that he’s the one to let the first come to the surface.

“H-how long have you two been together?” _Damnit._ He wasn’t planning on _those_ words.

Misha’s hands still on his neck, but continue rubbing again after a moment. Rob thinks he just made all this a million times more weird and all this liquid tension is hardening to bricks.

“A while—few years maybe” Jensen says, not even bothering to turn around. He sounds like he may as well be talking about their flight itinerary.

“Longer than a few. I think we’re going on five … five years” Misha corrects, practically singing the words into Rob’s ear.

It’s enough to make him even more stupid. “B—but, Vicki … Danneel?”

“Are on board” Jensen finishes, turning back quickly to give Rob a heavy eye, as if to dare him to think he’s lying.

“Yes, they’re both on the same page with all this. We consider ourselves one big happy family.”

Just then, Misha’s thumb rubs on the clumped up nerves and Rob goes from blinding pain into sweet relief with only the grit of his teeth.

It’s enough to clear his head and make him capable of pulling away from his friend’s touch, finally turning around to look at him dead on. “Really?”

“Yes” Misha says with a laugh. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds— _I promise_. We aren’t just having massive orgies and sleeping with random people. It’s the four of us. We all love each other, we are all involved, and we are all committed.”

Rob feels his mind blank with that. For years, it’s just been him and Mollie—no one else. It’s damn near impossible for him to even _imagine_ it being any different.

“Don’t worry about it, man. It works for us—and the girls are good with it, so don’t think we’re a couple of cheating scum bags or anything” Jensen adds, coming up to take a seat next to Misha on the couch.

Rob remains on the floor, staring up at the two—his two good, good friends that he’s known for nearly a decade now. He knows practically everything there is to know about them—their mannerisms, their favorite restaurants, how they sound when they’re pissed, how they sound when they’re tired … _hell_ , he even knows how they sound when they’re horny. He knows them better than he knows almost anyone, _yet_ , sitting in front of them now, he barely recognizes the two at all.

“This is freaking you out, isn’t it?” Misha finally says after everyone’s lips have stayed motionless for far too long.

“No” Rob spits, lying so blatantly that it makes Jensen laugh.

“Dude _… it’s fine_. It took me a while to get used to the idea too, and I’m fuckin’ _involved_.”

Misha’s following grin is so sweet and caring—full of unspoken memories and moments that were so obviously _worth it_ , it makes Rob sigh.

“We … _um_ , we aren’t really showy about it though. I mean, _Jared knows,_ and so does Clif and a few others, but we do mainly try to keep this on the down low. So if you could do us a favor and not mention it to anybody?” Misha says once he leans in a little closer to Jensen’s warmth.

“Oh …” Rob sputters, truly realizing what his friend has said a few seconds afterwards. “Oh, yeah … of course. Not a word—I mean, maybe a word, to Mollie … if that’s okay? Not that I would usually tell her stuff but— _uh_ , she _uh_ … she kinda knows when I’m hiding something. But just Mollie … and maybe Rich. Does Rich know? _God_ , please tell me he knows … he’s going to make my life hell if he finds out I’m keeping a secret from him. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out for long … _I’m sorry_. You guys shouldn’t have told me. I’m going to ruin this for you. _Damnit_ … sorry—I—”

“Woah, woah … Rob! Slow down, man … it’s fine. Rich already knows, and we don’t care if you tell Mollie. She’s your _wife_ , she’s kind of excluded from the _don’t tell anyone_ thing.”

Rob should feel relieved with Jensen’s words but all he can really focus on now is the fact that _Rich knows_. “He knows?” Rob yelps, voice coming off far more confident now. “What the hell? _He knows?_ For how long? Did you tell him or did he just— _guess_? Did he like, walk in on you guys or something? I can’t believe he knows and he didn’t tell me! What an asshole! Seriously! _How long?”_

Misha and Jensen trade shocked but amused looks before turning back to their practically seething friend.

“About two years” Misha says—slowly, carefully, as if speaking to a skittish horse. “And he sort of saw Jensen kiss me … someone just couldn’t keep it in their pants for the five minutes it’d take to get back to the room.”

“Really? I’m not the one who was faking fucking orgasms on stage! What’dya expect me to do after that?”

“Compose yourself” Misha fires back indignantly.

“Yeah … _sure_. Someday I’ll get to fake an orgasm on stage and we’ll see how well _you_ handle it—considering how much you love my O-face.”

Misha grins wickedly. “It’s a good face.”

Rob gapes as the two lose themselves a moment—giving one another more silent words, but this time, he can tell just how dirty each one is.

Jensen is the first to realize that Rob is still in the room. “Oh … _uh_ , sorry man.”

Misha clears his throat with a forced laugh. “Yeah, we’re sorry, Rob. This probably isn’t helping you get used to all this.”

Rob damn near chokes on his horribly dry tongue, not missing how Misha’s hand snakes over Jensen’s thigh, or how Jensen leans back, stretching out the long line of his torso for all the world to see. Another round of shivers ping pong against his insides, settling once more on his crotch. “I— _uh_ …” he licks his lips, unable to stop his eyes from dragging across each of their bare chests. “It’s okay … really” he croaks. “ _Really_ ” he says again, instantly kicking himself … _he’s so fucked_.

***

“So they’re all _together_?”

“Yep.”

“Their wives _and them_ … like, they’re _together?”_

“Yep.”

“ _Together?_ ”

“Yep.”

“ _Hm_.”

Rob glances up at his wife, promptly noticing her far off gaze and the slight quirk to her mouth. “What?” he asks cautiously.

She turns back down and smiles softly, but not without that air of wickedness that has kept him on his toes for the last twenty years. “Oh nothing … it’s just, _interesting_ is all.”

“Interesting, how?” Rob knows his wife, he knows that only certain things get her to ponder like this, and they’re usually things that make him endlessly anxious.

“Well—it’s interesting to think about how that all works. Do Danneel and Vicki sleep with each other like Jensen and Misha obviously do? Or is their relationship more emotional? Do their kids know? I imagine they would … but do they outwardly talk about it with them? I’m …. I’m just so curious!”

Rob sighs, “I don’t know, I didn’t exactly ask them for a detailed breakdown of their lives.”

“Well, what _did_ you ask them then?” Mollie’s gaze has instantly morphed into something Rob can barely read, which is unsettling because he thought that he could read his wife pretty well.

“What?”

“Didn’t you ask them anything? I mean … if I was given that chance, I would have had a least _a few_ questions.”

“What _chance?_ I … I was just sitting awkwardly while they flirted and lived their shirtless lives!”

“Which I’m sure was just _awful_ for you” Mollie fires back with a grin.

“Well … it wasn’t a walk in the park.”

“And I’m sure Misha’s massage was _absolute torture_.” Mollie is giggling now and Rob feels his neck heat up under his collar.

“What’s so funny?”

His wife turns soft and apologetic, knowing her husband well enough to see that she’s pushed things about as far as they can go. “Nothing, sweetie, just … I know that they’re both kind of your crushes, so—I would think that sharing a shirtless morning with them wouldn’t be the _worst_ thing in the world.”

Rob shuffles on the barstool where he’s seated and hunches over the granite countertop. Their kitchen feels cold and foreign right now, and Rob can’t help but shake a little—wishing that some familiarity could wrap around him again. “Maybe if I was expecting it, it wouldn’t have been so bad.”

“Well, what made it so bad?”

“What?” Rob twitches, knowing that his wife sees right through him. She knows that the fact that Jensen and Misha were shirtless wasn’t the issue—or even the fact that they are together. The issue is how excited all that made Rob. He’s never been able to handle excitement well.

“Babe … _it’s okay_.”

“W-what ….what’s okay?” Rob creeps, not wanting to implicate himself on the off chance Mollie _doesn’t_ know what’s actually going on here. It’s a gilded hope at best.

“I know how you feel about them. It’s okay, you’re human. You’re going to find other people than me, attractive. I find other people attractive all the time.”

“Wish you wouldn’t” Rob mumbles miserably, slumping down into his own folded arms.

Mollie chuckles again and circles around the kitchen island to come and stand at her husband’s side. “Robert, we’ve been together a long time. I love you and _only_ you, but when we had that fun little conversation a while ago about who else we would sleep with, given the chance … it wasn’t just the wine talking. I trust you and I would hope that you would trust me in that situation. I’m not looking to jump into bed with anyone else, but if Johnny Depp came knocking on the door, asking for a tour of the bedroom … well, the thought _would_ cross my mind. Now, my fantasy is pretty unrealistic, but I’m not going to hold it against you that yours isn’t.”

Rob stares into the dark folds of his sleeves, unable to lift his head to look Mollie in the eye.

“Now, I don’t know what you said or did when you were in that hotel room, but I’m guessing you probably stuck your foot in your mouth by the way you’re acting.”

Rob digs himself deeper, confirming his wife’s theory without any words.

“So … all I’m saying is, it’s okay. It’s okay that you feel the way you do about them. It’s okay that you probably got a little excited when you were confronted with the two of them, all shirtless and apparently _open_ to things you weren’t expecting. It’s okay that your mind wandered with it, and it would even be okay if you let yourself wander too.”

“What?” Rob jumps up, now glaring at the woman and wondering if that’s the only word he’s capable of saying anymore.

“You heard me.”

 _He did,_ but he’s not sure if he’s happy about it or not. “But …”

“Again _, I trust you._ Now, I don’t have any idea if Misha and Jensen are wanting to explore further than they already have, that’s up to them. They could be completely committed, just with a slightly wider scope than the norm … but still, if you want to ask them about it, then okay. You may be pleasantly surprised.”

“Mol …” Rob is breathless. His wife is crazy and adventurous and open to _far, far_ more than he ever could be; but when they talked about this before, _yeah_ … he blamed the wine. He never imagined that she was _actually_ serious, and he thinks … he’s kind of pissed off that she is.

“Rob?”

“I—I … I can’t … you’re giving me … you’re telling me to cheat on you?”

“No, I’m telling you to do what makes you happy. I’m telling you to live a little. I’m telling you that if the one time you really want to be adventurous means that you’re not wearing any clothes and are touching another guy’s happy parts, well … _okay then_. I’m fine with that.”

“How could you be fine with that?” Rob screeches, throwing up his hands in disbelief. “How could anyone be fine with that? Vicki and Danneel are the apparent exceptions, but … _you too?_ ”

Mollie only smiles, calm and bright. “Me too, sweetie.”

“But … but I wouldn’t be fine with it if this was turned around!” Rob counters, slowly realizing that he may be so flustered because he feels guilty. His wife doesn’t expect monogamy from him, but he practically _demands_ it from her.

“Well, again … Johnny Depp isn’t exactly breaking down our door, so we don’t need to have that conversation.”

“But, _if he was_?”

“If he was, then I might want to have that conversation.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to!” Rob is bordering on whiny and Mollie knows it, judging by the way her nostrils flare.

“Okay, bottom line here, Rob. If Jensen and Misha are looking to add a bit of _jittery-beard_ to their man-stew, then feel free to jump in the pot … that’s all I’m saying. And I’m saying that because I love you and because I want you to be happy and not regret things at the end of your life. We all don’t get many chances to live out our fantasies, and I’m not so selfish to hold you back from yours. Does that mean that you’ll actually get that chance, _who knows_ … but if you do, _do not_ pass it up by using me as an excuse. I’m not going to be happy if you do. Okay? Now, if this discussion can be over so I can continue making lunch for the kids, I’d be happy with that as well.”

Rob deflates, knowing that Mollie’s tone means that he really shouldn’t try and push anything any further … the end of his life would come very quickly if he does—and he certainly would have a lot of regrets then. The man gives her a small, frightened nod that elicits a huff of contentment from her lips.

“Okay … so, do you want a ham or roast beef sandwich?”

“Roast beef” he mumbles, watching his wife saunter back around the island and over to the fridge. She bends down to collect the meat and cheese from the drawer and turns back to set it all on the counter. A small strand of hair flutters across her face, and with little puff of air, she blows it away again. It’s a small action, completely unremarkable, but Rob thinks his wife has _never_ been more adorable then right here and now. He grins, reaching out to rub a gentle hand across her arm. “Love you.”

Mollie flicks her eyes to their corners, peeking at him with a warm ease. “Love you more. “

***

Three months passed by, along with three conventions and a little bit too much normalcy for Rob’s liking. Jensen and Misha were normal—Mollie was normal, Rich was a dick, which was painfully normal. Everyone acted just as they always have, and Rob had to play along—doing some of his finest acting in the moments they were all together. He laughed as everyone laughed and listened contently when others spoke. He gave himself numerous props for not crawling out of his own skin every time Jensen came close or hugged him all strong and genuine. Or the times that Misha patted him on the back and whispered in his ear—making some dirty joke that now took on twenty different meanings than they ever did before. He even remained calm when his wife would ask him how he was doing with it all—even though she probably knew just by the sound of his voice that he was winding himself tighter and tighter. At a certain point, he had had enough and he thought that finally confronting Richard about knowing might help, but of course, i _t didn’t_ … it just turned into a bunch of jokes about Misha and Jensen getting caught in messes of bits and comedy elbows. Although _hilarious_ , Rob couldn’t help dissolving in his own thoughts. The conversation he had with Mollie a few months back plagued every part of his brain on a daily basis, and all he wanted was to _do_ something— _what that was,_ he had no clue, but he wanted to do something that would puncture a hole in this ever expanding balloon he found himself in.

Little did he know, Misha Collins part-times as a big ol’ needle.

“So, when are we going to do this?” the man asks just after one very successful Saturday Night concert.

It was just him, Rob and Jensen in the room—something that’s to be expected these days, and has been ever since Jared became a father of two and Rich was reacquainted with naps. He’s not sure why _they’re_ always the last ones to head back to their rooms though, but they are, and they’re usually pretty drunk when it finally happens; but this time they weren’t. Not yet at least.

Rob spins on his heels, looking up from his phone where he was just texting Mollie goodnight. “What?” he asks shakily.

“When are we going to do this?” Misha comes again—face serious and calm.

“C’mon, Mish” Jensen follows, giving him an eye-full of words that Rob just can’t read.

“ _What_? You know it’s been really weird lately—I’ve felt it, _you’ve_ felt it, and I’m sure Rob has felt it.” Misha turns to Rob with a cocked eyebrow, challenging him to disagree.

“W-weird? What’s weird? I dunno what you mean” Rob laughs, twitchy and too hard.

“Oh for the love of god … _you_! Him and me! It freaked you out and now we’re all doing this kinda formal thing and _not_ talking about it. It’s weird!” Misha groans.

Jensen nods slightly and looks down at his shoes.

“I … I’m not freaked out” Rob offers, knowing that all his pro acting skills were left at the door.

Misha rolls his eyes and gestures dramatically up and down the length of Rob’s body. “ _This_ … this is what _freaked out_ looks like, Rob.”

Rob shakes his head, still trying to hold on to his lie. “No …”

“He’s not wrong, man” Jensen finally chimes in, and as Rob turns to look at him, he’s nothing but hunched shoulders and apologetic smiles.

He clenches his fists and shifts in his shoes, crumbling under their relentless stares. “Fine, okay? _Fine_ … I’m freaked out!” Rob bursts after a bit too much silence pierces his ears. He tosses up his hands and then storms past the two to grab a beer, hoping that it will offer some instant-ease to his muscles.

“Well, admitting it is the first step” Misha says sarcastically, and Rob can feel his blue eyes digging into his back.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say, dude … I’m freaked out. Not much I can do about it.”

A dramatic huff pulls him round and he sees Mish—hands on his hips and face twisted up like he’s about to sneeze. “That’s _bullshit_. I don’t think it’s really fair that you are freaked out about it. This is how it’s been for _years_ , you just didn’t know it, is all. He and I haven’t changed a thing” Misha points at Jensen, and then back at himself. “The only one who’s making this different is _you_ —and you really don’t have the right. If you’re not comfortable with us, just too fucking bad, Rob. If we’re really friends, I’d hope you’d get over this weird aversion you have—which is frankly, pretty damn surprising to me that you have it at all. I’d have never pegged you for the type to be so closed minded. I guess you can joke about it and play around with the idea, but actually _seeing_ something real, right in front of your eyes is enough to make you act like a total ass.”

As Misha’s nostrils continue to flare, Rob tries to wrap his head around all of the words he just threw into the ether, realizing after too long what he is actually saying. “ _Wait_ …” he begins, voice cracking with worry. “Wait … you don’t think I … you don’t think I _disapprove_ , do you?”

Misha hitches up his shoulders as if to say, _what else would it be?_

“No! Oh my god, no!” Rob yelps, charging forward and grabbing Misha’s arm. “I’m not against you guys being together, not at all! I mean, yeah … _sure_ , it was surprising … but not in a _bad_ way. I just don’t handle any change well— _good or bad._ But this isn’t bad, not in my book at least. Please don’t think that. _Shit_ … I thought I was doing well, being normal around you two. I _really_ did, and I didn’t want you to think that I was weirded out by what you told me” Rob barely inhales before he rambles on. “I just never realized that you two could actually _feel_ that way about each other or about other guys, and it made me start to think a lot, and I never do well when I think a lot. Mollie tells me that my own brain is my biggest enemy—she’s definitely right in this case. I just started imaging shit and you two and me—“ Rob finally halts, words hitting a brick wall when he realizes what he’s admitting to. “Shit … I … _no_ , that didn’t come out right.” Misha’s and Jensen’s stunned faces greet his horrified one. “I-I mean … _damnit_!”

“Well, fuck” Jensen gasps, rounded out with a tiny laugh.

“He was serious …” Misha offers, looking back at green eyes and sharing more silent words.

“W-what?” Rob asks, now not only traumatized, but _confused_. “Serious?”

“I thought you were joking, or just— _way more_ drunk than we even thought, but … you were _serious_ ” Misha adds, clarifying nothing.

Rob swings from one foot to another, feeling himself begin to sweat through his shirt. “W-what are you talking about?”

Jensen steps in closer, shaking his head and smiling. “The night before you found out … when you got really drunk?”

Rob nods, feeling more terrified for where this is going.

“Well …” Jensen swallows, and then places a steady hand on his shoulder. “We were playing a game … basically saying if you could, who you would sleep with, ya know? And well … you said … you said you’d sleep with … _us_.”

All the blood seeps from Rob’s face as he stumbles back, blindly finding the nearest chair to collapse in.

“Woah, hey … you okay?” Misha is quickly at his side, followed by Jensen and they’re both rubbing his arms, his shoulders—feeling his forehead _. It’s all too much_.

“Y-y-yeah … f-fine” he lies, knowing his hands are shaking just as much as his voice now.

“It’s okay, man” Jensen offers, trading concerned looks with Misha over his head. “This doesn’t have to change anything. We’re not going to be weird with you… we promise. Just stop being weird with us.”

Rob barely hears him, he’s too busy straining his brain, trying to think back to that night—but everything before waking up to Misha and Jensen, bare chested and domestic is nothing but a blur. “What … what _exactly_ did I say?” he begins, not strong enough to meet either of his friend’s eyes. “When I was drunk, what did I say?’  
“Oh … well …” Misha begins, voice sounding hoarse.

“You said that, _um_ … that you and Mollie have talked about things before. Made lists or something like that, and that Mish and I were on yours. I’m guessing you _uh_ , meant separately—probably is pretty weird to know we’re a package deal.” Jensen’s bad joke earns him harsh look from both Misha and Rob, and he quickly quiets and backs away again, letting Misha take over the _word-part_ of all this.

“We thought that maybe you were joking, about the _us_ part of it … that’s why we didn’t bring it up later. We thought you’d probably be embarrassed by it, and we didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

Rob nods again, wanting to say “too late” but forcing a smile instead, and feeling helpless, like the chair has him bound in shackles.

“Did you and Mollie really talk about it, though?” Jensen pipes up again and earns himself and even _more_ scalding glare from blue eyes.

“ _Uh_ …”

“You don’t have to answer that, Rob. It’s none of our business” Misha says apologetically.

“I was just curious” Jensen grumbles, turning away towards the small fridge containing all the beer.

“Well, you don’t need to fulfill _every_ curiosity, Jensen. This is already messy enough.”

“It all started with that, what’s the harm in trying to get some clarity?”

Rob watches as Misha finally leaves his side to go argue with the other man—the other man that is practically the guy’s _husband,_ and the sight of them standing in front of one another, bickering and red faced is just as cute as it’s always been—and Rob feels himself smiling, and the simple act calms him down. _Nothing has changed, not really …_ or at least _, it doesn’t have to._

“We did talk about it … a lot, actually” Rob interjects, silencing both his friends just as their voices begin to elevate. They turn back to look at him, questions rounding their eyes. “She … she said that she wants me to experience more, not have regrets when I’m old—well, _older_. She was pretty happy to hear about you two, actually … thought that at least _seeing_ people I’m close with taking chances like you two are, that it might make me take more chances too. So … _yeah_ , we really did talk about it and she is, _um_ —she’s supportive.”

Misha and Jensen look at one another once more, faces open and a bit surprised—soon morphing into something else entirely.

“So … she’s okay with you wanting to … to _sleep_ with us?” Jensen asks, taking a wide step around Misha and, pointing up at Rob, like this was a matter of life and death.

“ _Uh_ … yeah … yeah, I guess.”

Jensen squints and then looks across the room, concentrating on the wall, as if he’s talking to _it_ now. “Well … _damn_.”

“What?” Rob asks, feeling nervous all over again.

“I guess you were right” Misha mumbles, and that manages to pull a wide grin across Jensen’s face.

“Fuck yeah, I was! I knew it!”

“W-what did you know?” Rob asks again. He has been spun around so much in these last ten minutes, he’s perpetually dizzy.

Misha sighs and comes over to stand beside Jensen, slinging an arm around the man’s neck. “Jen was convinced there was some truth to your drunken confession, so … he kind of got us all together in a family meeting and discussed what that might mean … not like, _expecting_ anything—but just all hypotheticals.”

Rob shakes his head, _still_ not getting what Misha is getting at—it’s starting to seem like he _never_ will.

Misha sighs once more. “He wanted to talk with all of us—me, Vicki and Danneel about what it might mean if you were interested, or if any of our good and trusted friends were. Like—if _he and I_ were to act on that … see if that would be okay.” Misha sighs, seeming a little nervous about divulging all this. “Also, we talked about you and Mollie and your kids, because we know what something like this actually entails—it’s not just a roll in the hay—it affects the horses and the cows and the whole damn farm.”

“I … _uh_ …”

“I knew it” Jensen says again, still apparently off in his own victorious wonderland.

“Yes, you did, sweetheart. _Good for you_ ” Misha drones with a roll of his eyes, tightening the arm he has around him, making the man snake one of his own around Misha’s waist.

“So … _wait_ …” Rob is still working all this out. “You guys … you … _you_ …” his voice cracks as it all crashes down on him. “You … _uh_ … “ he giggles nervously while turning bright red. “You want to _sleep_ with me?”

The screeching realization knocks them _all_ sideways, and Rob is guessing by the suddenly shocked expressions both his friends are now sporting, that _they_ just fully understood what all this meant too.

“ _Uh_ …” Jensen sputters, looking over at Misha and pulling him in closer.

“Well … we … _um_ …” Misha adds, being even less helpful.

Rob can only stare up at them, mouth gaping.

“We … well …” Misha rubs the back of his neck a little more while avoiding Rob’s eyes. “Well, we … we aren’t _opposed_ to the idea. We, _um_ , we talked and we were … well, if _you_ were serious, then we said … _ya know_ , if things ever happened—then, it’d be okay … ya know, if we, _um_ , if we … if we _did_ … you know? If we did get … _intimate_.”

“Way to make it sound sexy, Mish” Jensen groans, shrinking into himself—morphing into a bow legged ball of red.

“Well, how would _you_ say it? I don’t see you jumping in being _Mr. Smooth_ or anything!”

“I’d have said it better than _that._ ”

“Oh yeah? How? _Humor me_.”

“Well … _uh_ …”

“Yeah, just what I thought. You got nothing.” Misha still has his arm around Jensen’s neck, but the once affectionate touch is now looking more like a choke hold.

“Fuck off, I just don’t think it’ll help now, the damage is done.”

“ _What_ damage?”

“Your spew of word-vomit.”

“ _Wow_ , at least I had the balls to say something.”

“Something _awkward_.”

“You know what? I’ve had about enough of your snotty attitude today.”

“ _My_ snotty attitude?”

The two men finally unlock, turning and facing one another—all wild gestures and pinked cheeks. Rob is once again amazed how these two can be so dramatic and so tightly wound, yet so adorably wound around each other. This is _his_ doing … he made this weird and he made this tense. He made them all get to this point, where everyone is saying the wrong thing and trying to blame it on one another. He knows he needs to fix it, and he knows just how to go about it too. In one smooth motion, Rob is on his feet, standing just outside his two fuming friends, peeking into their world, but not even bothering to knock before he charges in. Jensen and Misha both fall silent—stunned, mouths hanging wide as Rob lingers—up on tip toes, hands at his sides, lips still pressed firmly to the side of Misha’s cheek. _A kiss always makes things better_ … that’s what he learned a long time ago anyway; and judging by the smile he feels forming on Misha’s face, he thinks his friends agree.

***

Misha’s lips are soft—he knew that already though. He has kissed the man before, but it was always amidst the chaos of a convention, with a thousand screaming fans just behind them. He couldn’t really ever dwell on the feeling, but _now_ , when it’s just him and Jensen and Misha and no one else, he can feel just how smooth his lips _really_ are—and it’s _amazing_. Jensen’s feel soft too, but it’s harder to tell because they’re currently pressed to his neck—being interrupted by teeth and tongue, not that Rob minds the contrast at all— _not one bit_.

“You sure—you sure this is okay?” he asks again, between another breathless kiss and heavy moan.

“Yes, stop asking” Jensen growls, fingering the buttons of Rob’s shirt and deftly popping a few open—soon slipping a warm hand inside.

“I just … I just want to be sure” Rob clarifies and he feels Misha sigh into his mouth.

“Your first time with guys can be weird _, I know_ … but we’re _us_ , and we know what we’re doing. Okay? We’ll take care of you.”

Rob’s eyes are closed— _have been_ ever since this started, after they all spoke a little more, after they each broke away for phone calls home, after Mollie’s pep talk, after another, personal freak out, after coming back and innocent looks turned not so innocent, and innocent touches grew claws _,_ and the three moved from the green room, up to Misha’s and Jensen’s room. After they all sat on the edge of the bed and huddled in close—Rob closed his eyes, and he’s been too afraid to open them ever since. He’s dreamed about this damn near all his life. He’s loved the idea of having a man’s hands on him just as much as a woman’s, but it was hard enough for him to really open up to anyone as it was—throwing in the social turmoil that is bisexuality and he became practically paralyzed. It was Mollie who finally got him to say it out loud, and it was Mollie who made him finally feel okay about it. And now it’s Mollie who got him here—no matter where he is or what he’s doing, it’s Mollie—and he knows that in his heart of hearts.

He finally nods and lets his mouth be taken up once more by the skilled tongue of Misha Collins—trying not to dwell too hard on that fact that _that’s_ who the tongue belongs to.

Meanwhile Jensen’s hand rubs soft circles over his chest, finally running over one of his nipples and making him gasp so hard, it hurts his lungs.

“I think he likes that” Jensen coos, nuzzling deeper into Rob’s beard.

“Oh?” Misha asks, pulling back—making Rob wearily open his eyes to the world. “What else does he like?”

If he had any control over his tongue, Rob would have said he would probably like whatever _they_ did, as long as _they_ did it and just brought him along. He knows he’s the third wheel here, even if they are all manning a tricycle.

“Let’s find out” Jensen hums, and with that, Rob is getting pushed back onto the bed—two sets of hands gliding over him and clothes sliding off; and too many places to look to really focus on anything in particular.

It seems like seconds in between then and Rob lying in just his boxers, watching while the other two men stare at him, still fully dressed themselves … and that’s just too big of an injustice to stay quiet any longer. “W-what about you guys?” he whimpers, glancing at his own bare chest and then back to Jensen and Misha—giving them a very, _very_ blatant hint.

“Oh, you want _us_ to strip for you?” Misha asks, and Rob nods … even though he wasn’t thinking about it being a _show_ , but … it ain’t a bad idea at all. “Hear that Jen … I think that’s something else our dear friend here likes. He likes to _watch_.”

Jensen’s ears turn a little red over that—and Rob feels kind of bad. He knows Jensen sort of hates being observed or asked to perform on a whim, even though he’s a freaking TV star.

“In that case …” Misha practically moans, getting a hungry look in his eye just as he twists to take in his partner in all this.” Jensen, take off your pants.”

It was amazing, how quick the switch happened—Rob almost missed it, and if he wasn’t so familiar with how Jensen always seems to change when Misha is around, he most definitely _would_ have missed it. But it’s much more dramatic now, in this setting with testosterone running high … it all suddenly makes sense. They all have joked for years about how Misha can get Jensen to do _anything_ — but what Rob realizes now is, that it’s not _just_ because Misha is persuasive … _no_ , Jensen is _turned on_ by it. As soon as the command left Misha’s lips, Jensen’s entire demeanor changed. He was no longer looking twitchy because he was the center of attention— now he’s looking hungry, eager, full of energy, and unmistakably _excited._ Misha tells Jensen what to do when they’re like this, and Jensen obviously _loves_ it.

Jensen’s pants come off as quickly as Rob’s did, and then he’s standing there, staring furiously hard into Misha’s eyes, waiting for his next command.

“Good—“ Misha draws out, licking his lips nice and slow, obviously playing it up for Jensen’s attention. “Now the shirt.” Misha’s mouth twitches up as Jensen pulls his t-shirt away, leaving him bare and breathless. “Beautiful … that’s perfect, Jensen” Misha praises deeply, stepping a little closer, but not close enough to touch just yet. Rob can barely think as he lays on the bed, watching his two friends play their well-worn in roles. “Now … touch yourself” Misha whispers, eyes casting down with Jensen’s hand, watching as it start to disappear under the hem of his boxers. “ _Uh uh_ ” Misha chides, “ _over_ the fabric … make it nice and wet for me.”

Jensen only smirks, once again doing as he’s told.

Rob has a feeling, Misha loves to tease, which means he’s probably going to be begging for something by the end of the night.

Jensen’s head lolls back as he runs a palm over his tented briefs, gripping his veiled cock and stroking it the best that he can. The red fabric begins to darken as his tip leaks and his fingers smear it around.

Misha only licks his lips once more, enjoying this little show.

And Rob licks his own, amazed by how rock hard he is now … he has barely payed attention to himself this entire time, but as he glances down, he sees that he’s trying to burst from his own shorts, and suddenly, it’s all he can do _not_ to touch himself too … but he feels like _Misha_ probably wants to be the one to tell him to do that.

As if reading his mind, blue eyes are suddenly looking him over, scratching across his skin like talons. “You like what you see?” he asks, focusing in on Rob’s excited cock.

Rob nods carefully, getting anxious about what’s in store for him.

“Good … I bet you’re going to like _this_ more.” Misha lifts his chin, proud and harsh, eyes falling down onto Rob, like a dictator looking down on his people. “Jensen” he says, not even watching the man anymore, but obviously still in control. “Get on the bed and start making Rob feel good.”

A wide grin spreads across Jensen’s face as he brings his head back and opens his eyes to glare at Rob. With a wide, bowed step, he maneuvers around Misha’s still dressed form and slinks onto the bed and over Rob’s body. Those curving legs fit around Rob’s waist nicely, and the bend of Jensen’s stomach as he leans in to kiss him for the first time nearly makes Rob miss his lips. But then he’s _there_ , tongue slipping into Rob’s mouth and tasting sweet and perfect somehow. His lips are soft too—even softer than Misha’s and the kiss overpowers almost everything going on in Rob’s mind. It’s nothing but shades of green and blue now, sloshing about like an ocean. Rob practically jumps out of his skin when he feels fingers skimming down his body … a shocking jolt to the fluid against his teeth. Jensen’s hand pushes in between them both, pulling back the fabric of Rob’s boxers to take his cock in hand.

“Oh! Oh god!” Rob yelps, eyes breaking open and mouth ripping away.

Jensen grins as he looks down at his thumb stroking over Rob’s tip with expert precision.

From the corner of his eye, Rob sees Misha walk around the side of the bed, seemingly to get a better view, but the arch of his brow makes him look _all_ business.

“Slow down, Jensen” he says softly, but not without its edge. “We don’t want him tapping out early.”

Jensen glances back to his commander and nods curtly before slowing down his pace and loosening his touch. The change is just as exciting as the initial feel of that wide palm around him, just because it’s something _different_. This is _all_ different. Rob can barely comprehend reality right now—and it only gets worse when Jensen bends back to take one of Rob’s nipples between his teeth, flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue.

“ _Fuck_!” Rob gasps again, arching off the mattress and into Jensen’s hand.

“Jensen, _stop_.” Misha’s words are ice cold and blunt, and Jensen halts instantly, straightening out—a good little soldier standing at attention. “Come here” Misha demands quickly, pointing to the ground at his feet.

Jensen dismounts and is soon off the bed, standing in front of Misha—practically bouncing as he waits for his next order.

“Take off my clothes” Misha says calmly, like he just asked for a glass of water.

Jensen raises his hands and begins to undress the man in front of him, working diligently, all while Misha stares at Rob. The blue in his eyes glow, powerful and insistent on keeping every bit of Rob’s attention. It’s like the twist of a flame and he can’t bring himself to look away, not even an inch down, even as more of Misha’ skin is revealed. It’s just _blue_ , nothing but blue—that’s all there is to see.

Once his pants fall to his feet, Misha steps out of them—holding out a flattened hand, signaling Jensen to stop—he does immediately, nostrils flaring as his eyes dance down the length of Misha’s body. “Jensen …” Misha begins, a terrifying humor to his growl. “Strip off yours and Rob’s boxers and then get back on top of him.”

Jensen follows the directions _exactly_ , quickly peeling them both bare and then crawling back over Rob as he lies on the bed— _nothing more_ , just hovering there and waiting.

Rob’s view of Misha is then blocked by Jensen’s wide chest—the constellations of freckles momentarily distracting him from whatever the other man might be up to. But a _click_ of a bottle soon brings him back to the matter at hand.

“Deep breath, sweetheart” Misha purrs and Rob watches as Jensen inhales deep, pushing out his chest—practically filling up the room when it seizes. The green eyed man jumps suddenly, fists clenching the sheets on either side of Rob’s head and making him yelp. “ _Shh_ , it’s only the first one … still two more to go” Misha chimes in, and Rob’s head is spinning, not really sure what’s going on, but by the way Jensen is panting, he thinks it’s something _good_. “You like the way that feels?” Misha asks, and Jensen slowly nods—closing his eyes and letting his chin fall to his chest.

“Wh—the way _what_ feels?” Rob whispers—overall, feeling very stupid that he’s asking questions at a time like this.

Misha’s laugh sails through the air, airless and harsh. “I have to open him up—and there’s only _one_ good way to do that … _well_ , this is _my_ favorite way to do it, at least.”

Rob tries to scoop up some sense before it all threatens to leak out his ears—finally snatching up the realization that one of Misha’s hands is curled around Jensen’s hip, and the other one remains to be seen.

“ _Fuck_ …” Rob groans, finally understanding what glory is going on above him.

“Just about” Misha laughs, apparently slipping in another finger judging by the way Jensen hisses and almost falls on top of Rob as he shakes below him. “That’s it, Jen … you’re getting nice and ready for me, aren’t you?”

Jensen nods once more, eyes sealed shut as he gnaws on his bottom lip.

“What was that?” Misha rumbles, probably twisting his fingers inside the man—because now Jensen is barking out restrained curses and grunts.

“Yes” he grumbles, sighing afterwards—most likely with relief now that Misha’s need to be obeyed is satisfied.

“Good boy” Misha praises, slipping his other hand away from Rob’s view, but soon Jensen’s mouth is twitching with a smile. “Are you enjoying yourself, Rob?” Misha sings out again, and Rob begins to nod— but stopping himself a second later, knowing that the man apparently likes audible answers.

“Y—yes.”

“That didn’t sound too certain.” Another _click_ of a bottle marries perfectly with another hiss pushing through Jensen’s lips. The man’s eyes widen and peek down at Rob, both knowing and questioning all at once while they both wait for Misha to speak again. “Jensen, slide your dicks together, would you?” Misha says sweetly, making the request seem almost innocent.

Jensen licks his lips once more, shifting his weight onto his left hand while he reaches between him and Rob with his right, hitching both of their shafts alongside one another—creating a delicious friction that Rob _can’t believe_ he’s never experienced before now.

“Now— _stroke_.”

Jensen begins to pump their cocks together within his large hand, making Rob cry out—and Jensen cry out too—but by the sudden rocking of the man’s body above him, Rob thinks that Jensen isn’t moaning because of what he’s doing to their dicks. He thinks _Misha_ is behind all this—quite literally.

“Damn, Jen—you’re fucking tight” Misha grunts and the answering smile on Jensen’s face says that that is a compliment.

The strokes get harder—more heated, filling up the air with three sets of voices, all deep and hoarse, and music to Rob’s ears.

“Oh god … _fuck_ … shit” Rob spits, tilting his head back as his eyes blur out the world.

Misha seems to rock into Jensen harder, adding a rhythmic slap of skin into the melody of the room.

Rob snaps his head back, glancing down to see two sets of fingers wrapped around each one of Jensen’s hips, while Jensen’s hand keeps working them both over just in the middle. It is all too raw and new, and strange and wonderful—too much for his vanilla mind to coat. For a brief moment, Rob thinks about his wife, smiling with the image, knowing that this is what she wanted, for his eyes to be seeing something new, something that challenges him. He won’t regret this. He won’t leave this world without knowing what this is like. He will be happy about this— _is_ happy about this.

“Mish—” Jensen whimpers suddenly, shocking Rob still and away from his thoughts. “Mish … can I— _please?_ ”

Rob feels a worry flood across his skin, not knowing what is wrong with Jensen, but he knows the man sounds pained.

“Not yet, sweetheart” Misha moans, and Jensen responds with a whine. “Not until you take care of Rob.”

“ _But_ …” Jensen gasps, face rapidly falling as the rocking of his body stops.

Rob peeks down to see that Misha has stopped moving too, and he can only imagine that this punishment for his command being questioned.

“Just for that …” Misha’s voice is so low, it vibrates through Jensen skin and all the way into Rob’s dick where it’s still throbbing against his friend’s fingers. “You’ll have to finish Rob off _and_ wait for me.”

Jensen’s eyes roll just for a moment, but Rob can feel the guy’s cock twitch against his own. _He likes the punishment._

He can’t dwell on this epiphany for long because soon, Jensen is readjusting his hand, releasing himself to solely focus on Rob’s pleasure. The following strokes are perfectly timed and firm, gliding up over Rob’s head and twisting at the tip—gathering up all the droplets that Jensen squeezed out of him, providing a smooth _slip_ back down again. Rob is writhing within seconds, tangling his fingers in the sheets and wrapping his legs around what he _thinks_ are Misha’s knees at the edge of the bed. The desire nestles in the pit of his belly, and the skin of his eyelids burst white just before he feels himself heat up to burst all over. Jensen rumbles on top of him, harmonious and perfect—the final drum beat the sets him up for the crescendo. Rob comes— _hard and hot_ , screaming out nonsense as he feels his own slick shoot across his skin.

“Good … _good_ , both of you” Misha praises again, slowly moving once more and making Jensen hum out with glee.

Rob can only gasp and cough, still reeling from the epic release—barely realizing that Misha is speaking again.

“Touch him, Rob.” The orders finally clear in his head and Rob takes another moment to make sure Misha is actually talking to _him_. “I want you to jerk Jensen off.”

His hand is slithering between their bodies before he can even really think about it—just knowing that something about Misha’s tone demands cooperation.

Jensen’s eyes are furiously green, deepened by the black now eating the rings like acid. He stares down at Rob, mouth open and breath hot as it falls against his cheeks.

“L—like this?” Rob whispers, low enough that only Jensen can hear—and he smiles weakly as Jensen nods just as Rob’s fingers close around his shaft. It’s a strange sensation—feeling another cock in his hand, but he can’t say he doesn’t like it. Rob begins to pull his arm up, sliding a loose fist over Jensen’s length, noticing for the first time really, just _how_ _much_ length is there … it makes him nearly swallow his tongue.

Jensen’s body bounces harder as Misha rails into him—his own raspy grunts filling their ears.

“Don’t come until I tell you to” Misha commands and Rob watches as Jensen’s face fights between a pout and complete bliss with all the places he’s being touched.

“Rob” Misha’s voice rings in again. “Pull his hair … he _loves_ that.”

Without hesitation, Rob lifts his free hand and runs his shaky fingers through Jensen’s hair—an apology already playing on his lips; but it falls away once he twists in his knuckles and _pulls_ , watching as Jensen’s eyes roll back with him and a satisfied moan erupts from his throat.

“Fuck—god you’re _so_ good. You’re both _so good_ ” Misha cries, his movements shuttering and making Jensen’s whole body tremor in Rob’s hands. “Finish him” he finally groans after another muted thrust and Rob somehow knows that the command was for him—so he speeds up the twist of his wrist and yanks harder on Jensen’s hair.

Jensen’s arms begin to quiver and his eyes seal shut once more—a crackling groan coming out with each of Rob’s movements. The obvious pleasure on Jensen’s face ignites something within him and Rob feels his chest fill with _want_ and _certainty_. Before he can even breathe, he’s curling up—stomach quivering with the force of his deed, kissing Jensen hard while still clutching him like the only solid thing in a storm.

It’s more than wonderful when the man finally comes, breathing curses into Rob’s mouth and seeping out heat into his hand. And the fact that _Rob_ is the one who got him here … he’s the one who turned his ever-stoic friend into a whimpering mess of _freckles_ and _green_ is more satisfying than even his _own_ release.

_He won’t regret this._

_Not in a million years_ , he won’t regret this.

Jensen smiles against his lips, and Misha’s soft chuckle tickles his ears; and all at once, Rob is laughing—falling back against the mattress with a sigh of relief. He closes his eyes and doesn’t open them, even as he feels Jensen’s body move from on top of him, and either side of the bed dip at once—limbs crisscrossing over his chest and waist like the spindles of a spider’s web.

“How was that?” he hears Misha whisper against his cheek, nuzzling his nose into the scruff of Rob’s beard.

“You’re okay, right?” Jensen quickly follows, doing the same to the other side of Rob’s face.

Rob smiles, feeling warm and content between the naked bodies of his friends—smiling wider when he thinks of Mollie and how she made all this happen for him—how she makes everything happen for him. “Yeah” he grins, lifting his hand to rub thankful fingers across the arms tying him down. “I finally get to check something off my list.”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story was pretty damn difficult for me, mainly because I had to really delve into Rob's life ... and honestly, I don't truly believe that this could happen. Jensen and Misha ... sure, but not with Rob. Anyway, that's neither here nor there, but this was tough. Okay, well ... I hope you all liked it anyway!
> 
> For more smut, fluff and overall feels, check out the rest of my Ao3.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at: [castiel-left-his-mark-on-me](http://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com)


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